


Nice Is A Four Letter Word

by Ineffable_Idiot



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Crowley Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Does it count as a cockblock if there's no actual cocks involved?, First Kiss, Fluff, Kinda, M/M, Mutual Pining, My First Work in This Fandom, Scene: The Wall Slam in Tadfield Manor (Good Omens), This Is Really Self Indulgent I'm Sorry, Touch-Starved Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21807598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ineffable_Idiot/pseuds/Ineffable_Idiot
Summary: Based on the thought that haunts my mind daily: What would've happened if Sister Mary hadn't interrupted Aziraphale and Crowley when she did?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 359





	Nice Is A Four Letter Word

**Author's Note:**

> Because we are in desperate need of more Wall Slam content. Feedback is greatly appreciated!

" _No,_ no one's killing anyone. They're all having miraculous escapes." Crowley sighed. "It wouldn't be any fun otherwise." Yes, tempting the employees of Tadfield Manor would get him a substantial amount of points on his side, but if there was one thing he'd noticed over the last few centuries, it was that nothing was truly _fun_ when it upset Aziraphale. And if the look on Aziraphale's face was any indication, Crowley's little trick with the guns was sure as Heaven upsetting (Even though he totally had it coming with all that 'moral argument' nonsense earlier).

The look on Aziraphale's face, which Crowley noticed had become much more at ease now that he'd assured there would be no blood on their hands. In fact, the angel seemed rather pleased as he took a step toward him.

"You know, Crowley," Aziraphale began, quickly glancing to the side before giving the demon his full attention, "I've always said that deep down, you really are quite a nice..."

Before he could finish his sentence, or even really process what was happening, Crowley lunged forward, grabbing Aziraphale by the collar of his coat, and pushed him up against the wall.

" _Shut it!_ " Crowley hissed, pinning Aziraphale's entire body flush to the wall with his own. Crowley began going on about how he was a demon, and that demons were _not_ nice, and Aziraphale tried to focus more on what Crowley was saying to him rather than exactly how much he enjoyed being this close to him.

That endeavor went completely out the window, as it were, when Crowley's nose brushed against his own, and suddenly the angel was incredibly aware of every other point of contact between him and the demon. Aziraphale's eyes widened and drifted downward, taking in the sight of the demons face so near his own, noticing now more than ever how delightfully fluffy his hair looked, how beautiful Crowley's eyes looked even through the tint of his glasses, and how his lips...

Even curled into the defiant sneer Crowley had taken on while patronizing him, Aziraphale couldn't help thinking about how soft his lips looked. And in the position Crowley had put him in, all it would take to confirm that thought was the most minute tilt of his head, and -

"Nice is a four letter word, and I will _not_ have you thinking or saying I am anything of the sort. Understand, angel?" Crowley finished with another smaller shove, snapping Aziraphale out of his trance and leaving the angel to go red at where his thoughts had gone. After a second of calming down from his little outburst, Crowley eased his grip on the coat, smoothing his hands over Aziraphale's shoulders to get the wrinkles he'd caused out. Aziraphale looked back up as his brain caught up with everything Crowley had said.

"Even though you and I both know you are?" The words left Aziraphale's mouth before he could think to stop them. 

Crowley's head snapped up to look back at Aziraphale incredulously, not prepared for the amount of compassion written all over the angel's face. He opened his mouth a couple times to try and deny it, but nothing save for a few indignant stutters actually made themselves heard. 

"I do understand, Crowley." Aziraphale said, and before he could talk himself out of it, tentatively raised his hand to cradle Crowley's cheek. The demon sucked in a shaky breath at the contact, but made no move to make Aziraphale stop. In fact, Crowley struggled to refrain from leaning into Aziraphale's touch, not wanting to admit how much he wanted more of it. "I understand down in Hell, you have to present as the demon they want you to be. But I know that's not who you are." Aziraphale went on, absentmindedly tracing his thumb back and forth along his cheekbone. "You don't have to keep up that facade with me." 

Through his sunglasses, Aziraphale could just barely see Crowley squeeze his eyes shut, and he sincerely hoped he hadn't upset him, or worse, been the one to go too fast this time. Of course, with that thought came the obvious fact that he still had Heaven under the impression that him and Crowley never interacted and now here he was, willingly staying pinned between him and a wall, wanting to stay pinned between him and the wall, and he started worrying he'd made a mistake.

The angel had just been about to retract his arm when Crowley gave in and gently pressed his face against Aziraphale's hand, stifling a contented sigh.

"It'sssss not a facade." he muttered with a lot less conviction than he meant to inflict. "'M not niccccce..."

Relieved he wasn't doing anything wrong, at least in Crowley's eyes, Aziraphale allowed a soft smile to spread across his face. "Of course not." He began stroking Crowley's cheek again, making the demon let out a gasp so small he probably would think he'd imagined it if they weren't so close. "You just continuously do such nice things with no real motive for doing so. Like saving a bag of books that I know held no value to you." Of course Aziraphale could go on with every nice thing Crowley had done for him, but the flush creeping up Crowley's neck told him to let up a little. "Nothing nice about you at all."

Sternly telling his corporeal body to not _dare_ start blushing at Aziraphale's praise, Crowley shrugged. "'S no pr-problem, angel. Doesssn't make me nice."

"I rather think it does." Aziraphale argued gently. He reached up to run his hand through Crowley's hair and in the process brushed his fingers over his snake tattoo. It was a feather-light touch, but it was enough to make Crowley nearly cry out in pleasure. 

He grabbed Aziraphale by the collar again, though whether to ask him to stop, beg him to continue, or simply ground himself, Crowley couldn't say.

" _Nnnnng_ , Aziraphale, _please..._ " he breathed, all coherent thought having fucked right off.

Wide eyed at Crowley's response, the angel placed his other hand just above his hip in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. The demon shuddered at the feeling, and suddenly every worry, every thought of who they were, where they were, and what they were doing vanished from Aziraphale's mind. Slowly, as if afraid Crowley would stop him now, he leaned forward, parting his lips ever so slightly. 

Crowley didn't stop him. He pulled Aziraphale as close as their physical bodies would allow, also leaning in as his eyelids fluttered shut. Their lips just barely brushed together when...

"Excuse me, gentlemen," a voice called from down the hall. "Sorry to interrupt an intimate moment, can I help you?"


End file.
